Command

Wu Changkong felt that life lately had been somewhat unreal.

First, Lu Menge had scared the psychiatrist into a cold sweat in the consultation room. Then she returned her payroll card to him, but he did not take it. She did not press the matter again. The card still lay on her windowsill beside a thermos, where he could see it every morning when he picked her up for breakfast at the cafeteria.

Breakfast had been his requirement. Dr. Zhang's prescription was to be taken twice a day, one pill in the morning and one at night. Lu Menge found them bitter. Every time, she would hide the tablet beneath her tongue while he was not looking, then secretly spit it out after he turned to get the milk. He caught her twice without exposing her. Starting the third time, he stood beside her and watched her swallow it before handing her the milk.

"You're more like my mom than Director Long," Lu Menge had said once.

Wu Changkong looked at her without smiling, though the ice between his brows loosened ever so slightly.

There were no classes that afternoon. Wu Changkong was reviewing training logs in his office when someone knocked twice on the door. It was not Lu Menge's style of knocking twice and immediately pushing the door open. This was three proper knocks, even in force and precise in rhythm.

"Come in."

Gu Yue pushed open the door. She wore her school uniform that day, her silver hair draped over her shoulders, and held a cup of soy milk in her hand. Her expression was as indifferent as ever. She set the soy milk on the coffee table and sat on the sofa with her back ramrod straight. Wu Changkong put down his pen. Gu Yue rarely came to see him on her own—last time, she had cried beneath the ginkgo tree for nearly fifteen minutes. Thinking back now, every accusation from that breakdown still felt like yesterday. Whenever he read through the diagnosis papers, he could still hear the lingering echo of her voice.

"Teacher Wu," Gu Yue said bluntly, "has my sister been doing a little better lately?"

"She has been taking her medication on time, and she's sleeping better than before. But she still isn't very willing to talk about herself," Wu Changkong answered truthfully.

Gu Yue nodded, fell silent for two seconds, then lifted her eyes. The emotions in those violet pupils were controlled with just the right measure—some hesitation, some concern, but above all, a younger sister's care for her elder sister.

"She's getting better because you're keeping watch over her. You took her to the doctor, made sure she took her medicine, and brought her meals on time—she took all of that to heart." She paused and set down the cup of soy milk. "But that alone isn't enough. My sister's problem isn't just physical."

Wu Changkong waited for her to continue.

"Let me put it this way—why does she treat every kindness you show her as though the sky were falling? It isn't because she doesn't need care. It's because she needs it too much." Gu Yue lowered her voice, calm and steady, each word like a neatly cut tablet. "To what extent? If someone gives her the slightest friendly look, she feels as though she owes them for the rest of her life. If someone speaks to her gently, she panics, not knowing how to respond. She stayed in that kind of environment for too long, being controlled for so long—what she grew used to wasn't gentleness, but orders. Gentleness is soft, and she doesn't think she deserves it. Orders are different—orders are a language she understands. If you say, 'You have to finish it,' she eats. If you say, 'Go to sleep on time,' she sleeps. Because orders come without conditions. She doesn't have to weigh whether she deserves them. The better you treat her, the more she feels you could take it all back at any moment. But orders won't be taken back. Orders go one way. She doesn't need to repay you; she only needs to obey. The more forceful you are, the safer she feels. She knows where the boundaries are, knows what will happen next, knows you won't negotiate with her about treating her well—you simply treat her well."

After saying all that, Gu Yue lifted her soy milk and took a sip, composed as though she had merely stated an ordinary treatment plan.

Wu Changkong was silent for a long time.

He recalled the first time he had taken Lu Menge to breakfast. He had set the milk before her and said, "Remember to drink it." She had held the cup in a daze for several seconds before slowly taking a sip. He also remembered the first time he had forced her to take medicine. She had bargained, asking, "Can I not take it?" He had said, "No." She had muttered, "Why are you being so fierce?" but swallowed the pill anyway. At the time, he had thought she was merely acting spoiled. It was only after Gu Yue framed it all in terms of commands that he realized she reacted that way every time he spoke to her in a tone that left no room for discussion.

"How exactly should I do it?" he asked.

"Don't force it. Just don't ask her things like 'Do you want to?' 'Would you like to?' or 'Is that okay?' in everyday conversation. Tell her directly what she needs to do. Use statements for eating, sleeping, and taking medicine. Don't make them questions. If you think she needs it, she'll do it."

Wu Changkong committed those words to memory. Then he frowned slightly and looked at Gu Yue. "Why do you understand this?"

Gu Yue's eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly. Her finger traced an invisible circle along the rim of the soy milk cup. Then she placed it on the coffee table, rose, and walked toward the door. At the doorway, she paused without turning around.

"Because I slept in the same room as her for many years. Whenever those people came, she shoved me into the wardrobe. I heard every order they gave her—just like now. The only difference is that back then, she was lying on the floor, while now, she's sitting across the dining table. She couldn't refuse those people before, and now she can't adapt to you. But she can adapt to orders. If you don't give her orders, she'll never know whether she's allowed to refuse. Give her orders first—then, when she stops trembling, ask her what she wants to eat today."

She pushed open the door and walked out.

Wu Changkong sat before his desk, staring at the door after it had closed again. He pushed the Heavenfrost Sword half an inch farther into its sheath, then closed it. His fingertips tapped lightly on the desk, and at last, he made up his mind.

In the corridor, Gu Yue walked steadily around the flower bed. Tang Wulin was crouched beside it, gnawing on a bun. The moment he saw her, he hurriedly stood up, his cheeks still stuffed full.

"How—how did it go?" he asked indistinctly.

Gu Yue stopped beside him without answering. She held out her hand first. Tang Wulin expertly pulled out a tissue from his pocket and handed it over. Gu Yue took it, lowered her head, and buried her face in it. Her shoulders began to shake violently.

"You're crying again?!" Tang Wulin jumped in alarm.

What came from beneath the tissue was not crying, but laughter forced out between clenched teeth until it came out warped. Gu Yue laughed for quite a while before lifting her face. There was not a trace of tears at the corners of her eyes, and her lips curved like a fox that had stolen an entire basket of chickens. Lowering her voice, she told Tang Wulin, "Done. He's about to start giving her orders. Come on—let's squat by the edge of the field. We'll be able to see the whole thing."

Tang Wulin swallowed the last mouthful of his bun with all his might, his eyes shining as he ran after her toward the athletic field.

Teacher dormitory area. Lu Menge was hanging laundry on the balcony. The sunlight was excellent that day. She had changed into a light gray house dress, wore slippers, and had casually clipped her hair behind her head. She shook out a white T-shirt and hung it on a hanger. Little White Tiger sprawled across the balcony railing in the sun, its tail dangling down and swaying lazily.

The door opened. Without turning around, she knew it was Wu Changkong—the entire teacher apartment building had only one person who would wait for her to say "Come in" after knocking before entering.

"It's time for dinner. Go to the cafeteria." Wu Changkong stood at the balcony door, his voice steady.

Without looking back, Lu Menge continued shaking out another piece of clothing. "Let me hang these two up first—I'll be right there."

"Put them down. Eat first."

The hanger in Lu Menge's hand stopped in midair. She turned to look at Wu Changkong. He stood in the balcony doorway in white, his posture as straight as ever and his expression as cold as ever, but what he said differed from usual—normally, he would only say, "Remember to eat," or "Eat early," in a lighter, more relaxed tone. Neither of today's sentences was a question. There was no room for negotiation. They were arrangements he had decided on himself. She hesitated, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the hanger, then actually put it back in the basin.

"Fine, fine. What are we eating?"

"The cafeteria has braised pork ribs today. You said you wanted them last time. There's soup too."

Lu Menge dried the water from her hands and went into the room. She grabbed the gray suit jacket from the back of a chair and draped it over herself, then followed him downstairs in her slippers. On the way out, she glanced back at Little White Tiger on the railing. Little White Tiger buried its head in its paws and pretended to sleep.

There were not many people in the cafeteria yet. Wu Changkong had her sit in their usual seat by the window while he went to get the food. Lu Menge propped up her chin and waited, her fingers tapping lightly against the tabletop—one, two, pause; one, two, pause. Ribs, vegetables, and a bowl of egg soup were set before her, even the chopsticks and spoon arranged neatly. Wu Changkong put down the tray and sat across from her.

"Finish all of it."

Lu Menge froze for a moment, then picked up her chopsticks. She first picked up a rib and put it in her mouth—it was braised with sugar, and it really did taste good. Then she took some greens, ate a few bites of rice, and lifted the egg soup for a spoonful. Wu Changkong noticed that she did not bargain. She did not say, "It's too much," or "I can't finish it," nor did she push the vegetables aside while he was not looking. She simply fed herself mouthful after mouthful in silence, occasionally looking up at him as if to make sure he was still sitting across from her. He watched the entire dinner unfold and remembered Gu Yue's words. Somewhere in his heart, something swelled with aching bitterness. It was not that she did not want to eat her fill. She had merely been waiting for someone to decide for her: You're allowed to eat.

Lu Menge gnawed the last rib clean, set down the bone, licked the sauce from the corner of her mouth, and raised her head just as she was about to speak. A napkin folded into a perfect square was held out before her. She accepted it and wiped her mouth. Wu Changkong stood to clear the tray, took two steps, then turned back.

"Take your medicine at eight tonight. I'll come supervise."

"...Eight is too early. I usually don't take it until ten—"

"Eight."

"Fine, fine, eight." Lu Menge hurriedly raised her hands in surrender.

About fifty meters outside the cafeteria window, behind the bushes beside the flower bed, two people crouched. Tang Wulin knelt on the grass, holding up a branch to hide his face as he stared through the leaves toward the cafeteria windows. Gu Yue crouched beside him in a far more composed posture, holding a small mirror she had somehow borrowed from an office and using its reflection to observe Wu Changkong and Lu Menge's table.

"She didn't resist." Tang Wulin lowered his voice, his tone full of disbelief. "Teacher Wu told her to finish everything, and she actually finished everything—even the vegetables!" Teacher Lu usually secretly stuffed her vegetables to him whenever Teacher Wu turned to write on the board, yet now she had finished them herself under Wu Changkong's watch. Gu Yue said nothing, but the curve of her lips rose another five degrees.

More than half an hour later, Wu Changkong emerged from the teacher apartment building and headed toward the office. Tang Wulin poked his head out from behind the bushes to make sure it was safe, then crouched back beside Gu Yue and lowered his voice. "If Teacher Lu finds out we're spying on her, will she freeze us into ice sculptures?"

Gu Yue flicked away a ginkgo leaf that had landed on her shoulder, admiring the distant figure of the unsuspecting senior Sacred Beast drawing open the curtains and pacing back and forth inside the room. "She will. But if you don't say anything and I don't say anything, she'll only think Wu Changkong is in a bad mood today."

She picked up the little mirror and saved a screenshot of the final segment. She had already thought of the title for tonight's secret letter to Di Tian—Teacher Wu's command: Part Two at eight tonight.